


And Let Me Kiss You

by brokenstereotype



Category: Dylan O'Brien - Fandom, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Blow jobs for all, Dylan follows Niall and Harry on twitter so it was inevitable, Dylan's POV because he deserves it, Having a 1D song stuck in your head during sex is a common occurence, Is it worse when you are having sex with two of said bands members?, M/M, Threesome - M/M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-08-09
Updated: 2018-08-09
Packaged: 2019-06-23 15:00:37
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,411
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15608850
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/brokenstereotype/pseuds/brokenstereotype
Summary: Hollywood parties suck. And then Dylan sucks in the back of Harry's car.





	And Let Me Kiss You

All Hollywood parties are objectively the same. Booze. Loud music. Asthmatic cloud of overpowering tones of perfume. Champagne drunk girls who scream in his face and breathe their alcoholic air into his mouth. Yeah, fun times.

He hadn't even wanted to go to this party. But Posey is always complaining that he's the  _worst_ celebrity ever. Just because he would rather party with his friends whom he actually  _likes_ does not make him a horrible person. Also -  _celebrity_. Blech. That word is vile. He's an  _actor_ , okay? And he shouldn't have to put his talents to the test while he's not getting paid. Posey just burped in his face when he told him as much.

Anyways, he'd lost Posey about an hour ago to the sweaty catastrophe of dancing bodies in the middle of the room. He'd almost taken a step to follow him into the fray, but then he caught sight of an honest to god pair of red panties being stepped on by expensive ass shoes (And even some bare feet. Gross.) and promptly decided against it. So, it's just him against the world. Or, well, the wall, he supposes since that's what he's been talking to for a depressing amount of time. 

At least the beer is good. Decent. It's _free_. He goes to kiss the lip of the bottle and swallow it's contents - okay, yes. It's the most action he's gotten tonight. But, when the glass hits his lips, he catches sight of not one, but  _two_ fifths of One Direction. Fuck. He would be hyperventilating right now if he didn't fear an asthma attack. 

Niall Horan and Harry Styles. He mouths the names to himself, just to feel his lips shape the letters and suppress the urge to scream them instead. He presses his fingers to his lips just as an extra precaution.

They're standing by the bar, more specifically a few tubs of ice with bottles of beer and champagne and  _tiny_ bottles of tequila that may have jumped into his pockets when he wasn't looking. Sneaky little things. Niall and Harry though get handed actual glasses of some kind of mixed drink? Something purple, maybe more of a caramel color? Whatever, it's dark and there's a lot of blurring motions weaving in and out of his vision.

They don't seem to be enjoying the party either, from what he can tell. They sip at their drinks with bored eyes and crowd close together and speak against each other's ears. It makes him feel better about not wanting to be here, knowing (Assuming, actually.) that two of his favorite celebrities aren't loving it either. It makes him smile. Which is the precise moment that Niall Horan meets his eyes. 

Oh  _fuuuuuuck_.

What does he do? Does he wave? Wink? Oh god, no. He'll just, yeah, he's just going to keep doing what he's doing. Which is smile very awkwardly and  _ugh_ is it uncomfortable, his lip is twitching from the inner turmoil. He brings the bottle back to his mouth to give his smile the out that it so clearly needs. 

And then Niall Horan smirks. At  _him_. What is _in_ this beer? He's hallucinating, surely. 

It only gets worse -  _better_. Great. Too good to be true. Niall tucks his smirk against Harry's ear and says  _something_ and then they're both looking back at him. Oh no. He's too nervous to smile. He's pretty sure he can only manage a weak sort of grimace. But, he maybe should have attempted that when he didn't have a mouthful of beer in his mouth. Nice. So now he's got beer dripping down his chin while the two of them watch. His hands are too busy  _sleeping_ or something, since they don't jump to attention to swipe the liquid away, so his tongue swoops in for the rescue. 

He nearly chokes on it when Harry's mouth drops open and curves around a very interested smile. 

Oh.  _Well_. That's something. Something that makes his belly swoop terribly and his grip to almost completely give out and drop the beer bottle to the floor. But he doesn't because his hands apparently wake up and they hold on  _tight_ to the neck of the bottle. He should put it down. It's nearly empty anyways, just one last swig of what is probably entirely his own saliva. He's got enough of that filling his mouth right now. He'd once used the phrase _mouthwatering_ to describe Harry Styles' face but this is just too literal.

His hands apparently don't like the idea of ditching their life savor, refusing to make it easy on him to discard the bottle on the table by shaking and twitching the small journey until it's safely out of harms way. Meaning his very. nervous and clumsy hands. Once the distraction is gone, his hands hover uselessly in front of him, staring at him as if saying  _what now, asshole?_ He shoves them in his pockets to shut them up.

By the time he manages to look back up, Niall and Harry are moving seamlessly through the crowd. Towards him. Sweet Jesus.

His breath locks up tight as they get closer and closer. He keeps looking between them, despite him body telling him to do something foolish like drop to his knees on the filthy floor. They enter his personal space and then -

They walk passed him with twin smirks. A finger - Harry's, curls in one of his belt loops and tugs intentionally. And then they keep on walking, right passed him and towards the hallway leading to the bathrooms and exit.  _Uhm._ Was that a sign? Or a mistake? Maybe a celebrity way of saying hi? Well, it is a very crowded place with people who most definitely know who they are. Maybe he should just - check out the bathrooms? 

He doesn't make it to the bathrooms.

Harry and Niall are leaning against the wall right outside of the main room where the party continues on, oblivious. They're talking with stiff postures, arms crossed across chests and eyebrows pulled down in frowns. When Niall catches sight of him, his entire face smoothes out and is replaced by a surprised smile. Harry turns slowly and his mouth stretches into a mischievous twist of the lips. 

He is _so_ out of his element right now. 

"Dylan O'Brien," He introduces himself, thrusting a hand out to them and then reconsidering the act and bringing said hand to the back of his neck. "I do karaoke with my friends on the weekends to your songs." _Why did he say that? Do they even care?_ "Also, I'm an actor. On  _top_ of that, I mean. I don't sing  _very_ off key to your songs for a living. That's not to say that wouldn't be awesome, like  _hello_ dream job. It just. Doesn't - pay the bills. _H_ _mmmm._ " He sucks in his lips and pushes the rest of his rambling against them and questions his entire personality.

" _Fascinating._ " Harry says in wonder. Niall's eyebrows tick up in amusement. They share twin looks of some silent agreement. 

"And here i thought this party would be boring." Harry says under his breath. Niall breathes out a laugh that sounds indulging rather than genuine. 

"I know, right?" Dylan agrees. "I'm not really the type to get their rocks off to bad remixes of James Blunt." He shrugs as if to say  _sorry about it_. But he's not. At all. He's kind of ashamed for every person in that room. 

Harry's smile moves like honey, slow and sweet, until his teeth are settling against his bottom lip enticingly. 

"Is that so?" He teases. Niall rolls his eyes. "Well, how about the three of us relocate to somewhere more  _fun_ ," He practically purrs. Christ. "Have our own party?" Oh. That was bad. Such a cringe pick up line. But like hell is he going to say that to  _Harry Styles_. Nope. Plus, it makes his palms sweaty, so what does that say about him?

Niall groans, a deep rumble that should  _not_ be as sexy as it is. God, is he really this easy? 

"For fuck's sake, Harry. Why don't you just grope him while you're at it? Since you lack any sense of subtlety." He sounds nervous. Good, at least he's not the only one. 

Harry frowns, a move that makes him look his age for once. "I was trying to be  _polite_ , Niall. Thought maybe he needed some wooing." 

Wooing? That startles a choppy laugh out of him, head thrown back and neck bared. Who even says wooing? And why does he want to see the way Harry's lips form around the vowels over and over?

"Uhm," He says, eyes narrowed to confine this moment down into one solid square. "Am I reading this wrong or is this a proposition? Because I am for that."  _Up for it_. Damn, missed pun. He's really off his game. The very little that he has.

Harry reaches out for his belt loop again and  _tugs_ , making him stumble a step closer. 

"Yeah." Harry breathes all hot and rough against his cheek. And then they're moving as a unit, tripping over shoes and bumping shoulders as they reach the exit doors. It's cool outside, or maybe his skin is just now calming down now that he's not in the middle of two warm bodies. But what a place to be.

Harry shoves something at Niall's chest, his car keys he realizes as they glint under the street light. "Niall, go put the back seat down." He says without looking away from the intense eye contact the two of them are having. Very intense. There's even some squinting and rapid blinks. His heart pounds against his ribs like it's asserting its dominance. Hah. Like it stands a  _chance._

"Right. Let me just do that, your majesty." Niall grumbles, picking through the chain until he finds the right key. Niall unlocks a sleek black Range Rover that makes him want to propose marriage. It's gorgeous and has tinted windows. Convenient. 

Harry looks hungry and impatient and like he has a million things he wants to say, but licks them away from his lips with a wet tongue. Instead, he guides him to the car, where Niall has laid the backseat down and is sitting with an inviting smile. He looks like he should be requesting tickets for entry. Dicks for entry? He can provide  _that_.

Once the three of them situate themselves on the seat and the door slams shut, cutting off any outside noise, they take a moment to just collectively breathe heavy and share heated looks between three sets of eyes. It's hot as fuck in the car. If he passes out from lack of oxygen before he can get his hands on either of them, he's just going to check out of reality and move to Finland. 

"You have a gorgeous mouth." Harry says. He's sitting on his knees with his hands tucked between his thighs. He looks so eager and it's maddening. Also kind of ridiculous, which makes the situation less tense. Thankfully.

"Yeah, I hear that a lot." Dylan says with a small laugh. He wants to bite at his bottom lip to bring himself back a bit, but Harry's eyes are zoned onto them and he figures it would just be pointless to add any more attention to them. 

A hand on his thigh makes him look away from Harry's already wrecked face. Niall bares his teeth at him and he almost expects a growl. If that happens, he is going to be no fucking good. He's been conditioned by Teen Wolf and their pathetic imitations of howls to do anything but cry with laughter any time he so much as hears a yip from a dog. 

Niall doesn't say anything, just leans forward and kisses him.  _Shiiiiiiiiiiiit_ , is all that's going through his mind. That's a lie. His mind is a child and mockingly sings _And let me kiss you,_ over and over and over again. His mouth is wet and warm and he licks at the inside of his mouth with enthusiasm and a happy moan. Harry makes a noise that sounds wounded and then there is a palm on each of his thighs. 

"I wanted his mouth first." Harry whines. Oh. He has to close his eyes to catalogue that in his mind for future reference. Like when he's in the grocery store, debating between two apples. Niall laughs against his mouth and nips at his bottom lip as he pulls away. He's so gorgeous and the flush to his cheeks only enhance that.

Barely having the time to breathe, Harry grabs his face between two rather large hands and presses their mouths together. He loses his balance, his sense of time, his entire fucking  _mind_ and falls onto his back against the seat. Harry follows him without breaking their kiss and ends up leaning over him with a hand on either side of his head.

"Here we go." He hears Niall say faintly from somewhere near his thighs. Harry licks into his mouth and sucks on his tongue and pretty much sucks all of the breath straight from his lungs. It's  _awesome_.

"Harry," Niall calls. When Harry doesn't make any moves to answer, Niall says with a bite, "Harry, move! I want to take his pants off." Which gains Harry's interest. He breaks their lips with a loud smack and grins down at him. It's dark in the car due to the tinted windows but Harry's eyes shine bright and excited. He moves to the side, but bings a hand to press down on his chest and clutch at the fabric of his shirt. 

Niall unfastens his jeans with easy movements and slides them down his legs without any teasing. Straight to the point. He can appreciate that. And then he's left in his boxers and Niall looks up at him, calculating. It looks silly with his hair all fucked and wild.

"Can I blow you?" He asks, which is rhetorical. Surely. There's no way he would say no to that. "And I know that Harry is like in love with your mouth, so - I blow you and you blow him?" Woah. That is single handedly the hottest question he has ever been asked. 

"Yee," He says since his mouth is on auto pilot and decided now would be a good time to combine two simple words like  _yeah_ and  _yes_. How does anyone ever want to put their mouths on him? 

"Yes." He corrects with heat flooding his cheeks. Niall's laughing as he tugs at his boxers and his breath hits against his hard dick. He goes to bring a hand to his face and ends up hitting Harry's clothed thigh. The look on Harry's face would be terrifying to see in the corner of your bedroom at two am, but now it's just hot as fuck. His eyes are wide and he's swallowing convulsively as he stares at his mouth.

He smiles to try to lessen the wild look on Harry's face, but Harry groans and curses under his breath. Harry brings a thumb to Dylan's mouth and  pushes it this way and that, eyes greedily drinking in the sight of his lips moving with his thumb. 

"Harry, get your pants off already." Niall instructs. He's just holding his dick in his hand like he's waiting for Harry to start the activities. That's so thoughtful. He wants to pout at how cute they are. But then Harry is taking his own pants off and sliding them down his legs and his underwear goes with it and, wow. Okay. There's a dick in his face.

Harry tugs at his own dick slowly all the while staring at Dylan's mouth. Niall shakes his head, he presumes because he can feel hair tickling against his thighs and then Niall's mouth slides over the head of his dick. He hums and then Harry's dick is pressed against his lips and he opens his mouth, letting him slip the head inside.

Having a dick in your mouth and your dick in someone else's mouth is - it's some adjective he doesn't have the mental capacity to think of.

Niall sucks him down with spit sliding passed his lips and down his chin, making it wet and filthy. Harry pushes at the corner of his mouth with that same thumb, breath hitching each time he slides out and sinks back in. They work together, the three of them finding some rhythm that shouldn't work in the back of a crowded car but is unbelievably hot and not just due to the temperature of the car.

"Oh god." He groans when Harry's dick slips out of his mouth and Niall's mouth sucks hard and his tongue caresses him in a way that has his toes curling. His belly is warm and fluttering. God, he's going to come so fucking fast.

Harry slips back in and brings his hands down to cup his temples. He thrusts shallowly, little grinds of his hips that are  _adorable_ , more than anything. While Niall works at his dick with that  _fucking_ _mouth, fuuuuck_ , he grabs tight to Harry's ass and pushes him forward, struggling to keep his eyes open as Harry gets with the program and picks up a steady rhythm that rocks the car. 

He slaps a hand in the vicinity of where Niall is bringing him straight to the edge, no exits for the next twenty miles, trying to warn him that he's about to come his fucking brains out. 

He does, about a second later and nearly chokes on Harry's cock. What a way to go that would be. But, Harry pulls back and kisses him through his orgasm as Niall lets his lips bring his dick back from its seizure of overstimulation. 

"Got damn." He wheezes. 

"Niall, come here." Harry says. Somehow, in a complicated twist of limbs, they rearrange themselves so that Niall is laying upside down on his chest. Harry flips around so he can get his dick back in his mouth and where he can lean down and suck Niall's dick at the same time. They're like the recycling symbol. Or something more sexy.

Niall's shoulders are pressing against his dick, but it seems content to just lie back and bask in the afterglow. Niall's groan tickles his entire body when Harry opens his mouth around him and essentially sits on Dylan's face. His balls smack against his forehead and his dick pokes at his mouth. When Dylan licks at his lips, he tastes the bitterness of precome and opens his mouth wide to get more of it on his tongue. Harry pretty much does all of the work, working his hips down and his head in an uncoordinated jive.

Niall slides his hands all through Harry's hair and helps guide him in a more effective slide. Dylan wraps his arms around his thighs and offers his own assistance. Niall's leg jerks and kicks him in the ribs and Harry's ass wiggles in his face. He wishes he could come again.

"Your mouth is so good." Niall says. He tilts his head back but there's no support from where Dylan's legs are spread, so he sits up and grips a hold of Dylan's thigh for balance. 

Harry's hips stutter on their next thrust at the praise and he locks up. Warm jazz fills Dylan's mouth which is not something that is on his favorites list, but he swallows because he would rather that than choke, thanks. He pushes weakly at Harry's hips and swipes the back of his hand across his mouth. Ugh. His legs are trembling from holding all of Niall's weight at an awkward angle. He doesn't have long to worry about that though, since Harry puts his all into sucking Niall to an inch of his life and Niall's breath comes out in these punchy moans that bounce off of the windows and echo fucking  _everywhere_. 

Throughly exhausted, he slumps and lets his limbs splay where they want to go. He's sweating something fierce and he's pretty sure there's come on his belly. What? Is it Niall's? Yup, definitely Niall's because Harry looks back at him over his shoulder and his chin is drenched in it.  _Drool down your chinny, chin, chin._ Ugh. He hates him inner thoughts sometimes.

Overall, not a bad party. 


End file.
